Raining On My Face
by Princess Pinky
Summary: River struggles with the fact that his firsts are her lasts, while The Doctor struggles with the fact that River will go anywhere and anywhen with him, but not always. Can a trip to the Planet of the Rain Gods help them both?


**A/N:** So, if you didn't know, the season seven DVD boxset (the complete set, not the halved set) has DVD extras on it and one of those extras is called "Rain Gods." My fellow Doctor/River shippers, this is a River and The Doctor (solo!) extra! Yes! You read that right! If you have not seen it, DO SO! It's short but it's oh so adorable! (Written by Neil Gaiman, but they screwed up on the DVD credits so "Rain Gods" is credited to Moffat and "The Name of The Doctor" is credited to Gaiman. lol) But all that's beside the point. It's brand new Doctor/River footage and we should rejoice! Also, this story was directly inspired by that minisode. It's broken up into three scenes, two of which prequel "Rain Gods" and one of which sequels it. A key thing to note is that in the minisode Eleven is wearing his Victorian outfit and River, when you see a full body shot, is wearing her gray dress that she tends to wear in Stormcage. This leads me to believe that from River's POV "Rain Gods" takes place pre-"The Time of Angels" and for The Doctor this takes place sometime post-"The Angels Take Manhattan," but specifically when is unclear, since we don't know when or how exactly he obtained that outfit. That's kind of important because I view this fic as taking place pre-"The Great Detective" (the prequel to the 2012 Christmas Special).

_**Raining On My Face**_

It was raining again. It was _always_ raining, hence the name, _Storm_cage. They'd built the prison on planet that was always storming to punish the prisoners; never a moment of smiling sunlight. Usually River didn't mind. She liked the sound of the rain; the smell, too. Most of the other prisoners couldn't smell it, their cell windows too tight for such an insignificant joy, but her heightened senses gave her the edge. Tonight, however, the weather matched her mood.

She'd told him she couldn't go with him because she had a promise to keep, but promise be damned! Her firsts, his lasts; it was all too much. The tiny prison window sobbed and River's eyes ached. She sat on her mattress, hurriedly rifling through a bigger on the inside luggage case, a perception filtered gift from her beloved. It was already cold, the stone walls gave off a chill like a human body gives off heat. But where she was going was colder. Eventually she slid on a zip-up leather jacket, matching gloves, and noosed a black-and-green woolen scarf around her neck. Usually she hated wool because of the itch, but this time she welcomed the pain.

Once the suitcase was safely tucked under her bed—and booby trapped, there was no telling when the guards might insist on random cell searches—she hit the coordinates on her vortex manipulator and embraced the crackle of electricity that raced through her blood. When the tingle had extinguished, she could no longer smell the rain, but she could smell the permeating oil of chips.

Calderon Beta. Planet of the Chip Shops. River inhaled deeply, positive her arteries were clogging with each breath. Her first night in Stormcage he'd taken her here. September 21, 2360 and at 12:12 A.M. she saw the second most stars than at any other point in history. _Second_ only to the day she'd married her husband. River sniffed and lifted her gloved wrist to her nose.

Cursed timelines.

Cursed spoilers.

Cursed Madman in a Box.

"Oh," she ached, shaking her head. "I _hate_ you."

"No. You don't."

River started and spun to face away from the cliff top. There was that face of a twelve-year-old with the floppy puppy hair poking out from the TARDIS doors she loved so much. "But–"

"She didn't make the noise."

River nodded.

"I know." He pulled the door wide and stepped out. "I didn't even realize she'd landed at first." The Doctor paused as her eyes roamed him, but not out of lust. He cocked his head. "What?"

River motioned her hand. "No tweed?"

The Doctor fidgeted. "It's a waistcoat. I wear a waistcoat now, waistcoats are–"

River raised her hand, effectively silencing him. "But _Victorian purple_?"

"_You_ picked it out!"

River circled him twice like a cat around a bird in his cage. "What are you doing here?" she asked finally.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"I asked you first."

"I told you, the TARDIS brought me."

"Any particular reason?" Even as she said it, she knew the TARDIS must be trying to do what any mother would: wipe away the tears the only way she could.

His face had begun to scrunch up, as though a bottle of pepper had just been thrown into it. The Doctor suddenly ducked out from under River's gaze and spread his arms wide, facing toward the cliff top. "Planet of the Chip Shops! We could get chips. Would you like to get chips, Dear?"

"Not chips, no thank you. Not this time."

The Doctor turned back to her, frowning. "A date then. A proper date." He looked her dead on. "I know the_ perfect_ restaurant. No chips."

River squinted and neared him. She lifted her gloved hand toward his face. "Doctor, is that a–"

The Doctor pressed his hand into hers and weighed it down, away from his cheek. He sniffed the air. "Rain. Rain! Do you smell that, Dear? Rain! It's raining." He tugged her along before she could argue with him. "Come along, Wife, before you get drenched. This restaurant, you're going to love it! _Trust me._"

River rolled her eyes. "You're The Doctor."

"Yes," he nodded. "I _am_ The Doctor."

**DW DW DW DW**

River locked her jaw. "You _don't _have the sonic?"

"In the TARDIS," he squeaked.

"How can it be in the TARDIS?"

"Because I left it there, _obviously_," he snapped, tapping her nose

"You know what I meant." River crossed her arms. "You never go anywhere without the sonic."

The Doctor blanched. "I was…working on it."

"Working on it?"

"Uh – upgrading it."

"Great, now you're a Cybermadman. What did it need upgrading for? The TARDIS can do that herself."

The Doctor avoided her gaze. "Dampers."

"Dampers?"

He slumped forward in the cage they'd been trapped in. "Yes."

River rubbed her temples.

"And what about you?" The Doctor demanded. "Don't you have something to just blast us out with?"

"I wasn't exactly planning on needing anything of that nature."

The Doctor snorted. "Like you don't carry _something_ at all times."

River growled. "Children."

"Children?" The Doctor stared at her momentarily, then smacked his palm to his oversized forehead.

River aimed her finger at him like a gun. "Don't you start!"

"You were pick pocketed by children!"

River turned away from him. She was quiet for a long while. "They looked hungry."

The humor drained from his cheeks. He took a stance behind his wife and laid his hands on her shoulders. The only thing in his mind's eye was of River in her first incarnation, all alone on the bitter streets of New York, hungry and sick and dying. No wonder a child could be a weapon, they were the last to suspect. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

River suddenly turned against his hand, her emotions once again filed away. "The psychic paper! Planet of the Rain Gods, right? Well," she raised her hands, "I'll introduce them to Asiaq."

"They're not Inuit, River."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No…and I'd be willing to work with yours if…"

"_If?"_

The Doctor patted his breast pockets. "If the psychic paper wasn't in my tweed."

River ground her teeth. "I don't see how I'll ever pick out that outfit."

"Spoilers."

"I hate that word."

"No you don't."

River's brows perked at the distant sound of leather soles groaning against dusty soil. "We've got company."

The Doctor began to rub his hands together as if he was trying to start a camp fire. "Oh goody! Imminent death! I always think best under pressure."

**DW DW DW DW**

The bathroom door was ajar and The Doctor could see her shadow moving across the wall. He eyed her boots scattered along the floor. Her scarf thrown over the seat of a chair and his waistcoat on the floor at the chair's feet. He squirmed onto River's side of the bed, still reluctant to get out from under the covers. "You don't have to go."

"Yes, I do." River emerged from the bathroom, dressed in her uniform issued gray Stromcage dress. She pulled a brush through her ringlets, but it didn't seem to make any difference because each time they just bounced back. "Sorry, Sweetie."

The Doctor lunged toward the end of the bed, grabbing for his trousers that were tangled around a bedpost.

River untangled the strands of her hair from the brush and tossed them into a bin half filled with wadded up paper, some with partially drawn ornate circles. She moved back into the bathroom. "I've been thinking of going back to school."

The Doctor paused mid-zipper and looked towards the bathroom. "Back to school?"

"The prison has a distance education system." She returned and picked up her leather jacket from the floor, untwined it from his long coat, and slipped it over her bare arms. "I was thinking I might like to become a professor."

The Doctor didn't look at her. He looked down at his pants and forced himself to push the button of his jeans through the hole. "A professor," he said slowly.

"I know," she said, picking up her scarf. "Not like I can do anything with it while I'm banged up in Stormcage, but it's something to do with my time. Funny that. I always hated school in Leadworth. Still hated it my first year at university, before I realized what archaeology could do for me. _Now_ I want to be a teacher?"

The Doctor buttoned the collar of his wrinkled, white dress shirt. "Sometimes we run from the things we're most passionate about."

River sat down on the chair her scarf had been hanging on and began to slip on her boots. "Like our wedding?" She tossed him his waistcoat.

"That was spur. We hadn't even saved a date."

"But you didn't want to marry me."

The Doctor moved to River's side and knelt down beside the chair, his hands on her thighs, stopping her from tugging on her second boot. "Rule One, Wife."

River paid him a pale smile. "I hate Rule One."

The Doctor bowed his head. For the first time since he met her, he replied, "I know."

At that, River nudged him aside so she could finish pulling on her boot.

The Doctor stood up and located his bowtie under River's pillow, with a pair of handcuffs. He slid it under his collar and tied it into the loops that symbolized their adjoining timelines; their marriage.

"I think I have everything."

"You act like you're never coming back."

River tightened the scarf around her neck. "You never know."

The Doctor tailed her up to the console room and out the front doors, but as they reached her cell, he grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. "River." He could see an anime shine in her eyes. "We're not back to front. You're a bloody waxing poetic, Dear."

She could hear the window sobbing. "But that's the trend, isn't it? Your firsts, my lasts?"

The Doctor cupped her face and tenderly joined their mouths. He could hear four heartbeats moving in time. No stray limbs, no fumbling. He didn't stop until he felt dampness on his cheek. "I can promise you this isn't your last. No Rule One," he said, crossing his hearts with his index fingers. He reached to wipe his eyes, but he realized they weren't wet.

River lifted her hands to straighten his bowtie, purposefully keeping her eyes low to avoid his gaze.

The Doctor extended one finger and used it to lift her chin. The dampness from his cheek, he realized, had come from hers. "Rain," he said. "It's raining on your face."

"Now who's the waxing poetic?"

"Still you, Dear. Always you."


End file.
